


Acid Attraction

by CeruleanHeart



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Biting, Canon-Typical Violence, Dirty Talk, Harringrove Week of Love, Locker Room Sex, M/M, Marking, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Consensual Touching, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post S2, Power Play, Scratching, and making out with a taste for violence, but also having a crush on each other, light pain kink, teenage boys being horny and angry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22687615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeruleanHeart/pseuds/CeruleanHeart
Summary: The bruises on Steve’s skin are healing but Billy can’t stand to see his marks fade. A storm is brewing and Steve will not run for shelter. One always gives as good as he takes from the other and there are better ways to leave marks than a fistfight.Harringrove Week of Love prompt “Marking”
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 25
Kudos: 386
Collections: Harringrove Week of Love





	Acid Attraction

“It’s a real shame, Harrington.” 

Steve stiffens when he hears the words, feels the breath on which they travel against the nape of his neck. _Billy’s_ voice, low and gravelly in his ear, _Billy’s_ breath, warm and moist on his skin.

He turns, only to find himself crowded against the locker. Everything about Hargrove postures as a thread. That pair of vicious blue eyes, that switchblade of a smile, his broad chest, blocking his way, too naked and too damp from the shower to consider a push or any kind of touch. Steve’s got his own shirt in his hands with no room left to pull it over his head. He is trapped half-dressed between the locker and the enemy.

“What are you talking about?” he frowns, squares his shoulders and raises his chin. He’s still got that inch of advantage in height, no matter how imposing Hargrove might be, and he’ll make him acknowledge every fraction of it.

Billy’s grin widens, sharp enough now to sever flesh from bone. He cocks his hip, leans closer in a slow, languid move, muscles gliding under smooth, tanned skin. Clicking his tongue he eyes Steve up, props an elbow against the neighboring locker and right next to his head, so he’s got him caged in properly.

“Playing dumb today, pretty boy?” Hargrove drawls, let’s his eyes roam over Steve’s face, measuring, calculating, like he’s trying to figure out the best way to go in for a kill. He smells of cheap soap and steaming, warm skin. “Or do you really not know?”

Secretly, Steve’s been waiting for something to happen ever since that night at the beginning of November. There’s too much unfinished business, too many things left unsaid between them. He could feel it all this time, another storm brewing, electric tension in the air, static crackling with each contact. In the classroom, in the hallway, during practice, building and building. 

“How the hell would I know what’s going on in that messed up head of yours?” Steve snaps back, quickly running out of patience. He’s acutely aware that they’re alone now, that he took too long to fix his hair and shoveled his own grave with a can of styling mousse.

Billy’s hand darts forward, catches Steve’s jaw in a firm grip, thumb digging into the hollow of his cheek. For a moment, Steve is frozen with shock and surprise, long enough for Billy to continue.

“I’m talking about _these_.” he leans closer, eyes intent, when he traces the contour of Steve’s cheekbone with his index finger “It’s a shame they’re fading. You wore them so well.”

Anger surges through Steve’s veins. He bares his teeth in a snarl and knocks the hand on his face away with the side of his wrist, watches with satisfaction as Billy’s face twists when bone connects with bone. He knows what Billy means, remembers the exact shape of the bruise that blossomed where he just touched him, one of the many Billy gave him.

“Leave me. Alone.” he says, shoves at the shoulder in his way to emphasize his words.

Billy’s entire face crinkles with a twisted kind of glee.

“But I can’t do that, pretty boy.” he leers, tongue poking out between his teeth “Can’t have people thinking you’re anybody else’s to touch.”

By now, Steve knows the traps Hargrove lays out for him. Those sick little provocations, _implications,_ laced with an undertone that’s almost sexual. He’s learned the hard way what a kick Hargrove gets out of a fight, how hungry he is to draw blood. He fell for it once. He's not gonna fall for it twice and give Billy what he wants. 

“Forget it, Hargrove. I'm not fighting you. Take it elsewhere.” 

“But where else would I find a face as beautiful as yours to mark?” Billy tuts, with a mocking little smile he reserves for Steve and Steve alone.

“Go to hell.” Steve huffs, rolls his eyes “I can’t believe you’re still getting off on this.”

Billy throws his head back as he laughs, too loud, bordering too close on hysteric to be sincere.

“Fuck, yes. I _loved_ it.” he purrs, crowds in closer, closer till they’re almost sharing their breath “Loved that everyone knew I had my hands on you, loved that you couldn’t hide it either.”

“What, you’re a little bit obsessed with me, Hargrove?” It's Steve’s turn now, to laugh, to mock.

Snakelike, Billy’s pink tongue flicks out, wets his lips.

“Maybe so.” he says.

Billy's got that way of looking at him that makes Steve think it must be true. A way that makes his skin prickle and heat. 

It’s those eyes, the way they darken under the thick curtain of his lashes when they linger on Steve. Bedroom eyes. Devious eyes. There’s something in them, some kind of cannibalistic desire. It’s unsettling and exciting, makes every single nerve in Steve’s body feel raw, turns his blood into an adrenaline cocktail. 

“I’m not afraid of you.” he says into the narrow space between them, watches Billy’s eyes flicker to his lips and back.

Steve’s been looking too, while the storm’s been brewing. It’s not easy, taking your eyes off Hargrove. 

“Oh, I believe you.” Billy’s hand is back on his face, gentler now, mapping out the contour of his jaw “That’s what I like about you, that little spark you got is what makes you so fun to play with.” 

“I’m not your toy.” Steve twists his face away from Billy’s touch “Now get your hands offa me.”

Billy hums, thoughtful. The calm before...

“Not my hands, then.” he says. 

There’s no thunder, there’s no lightning when it happens, just the flash of Billy’s teeth as he goes for Steve’s neck. He bites him, hard, teeth catching on a chunk of meat high on the column of his throat.

Steve barely manages to suppress a yelp as his hands fly to Billy’s shoulder in an attempt to shove him off. But Billy has latched onto him, lips sucking a mark into his skin and the more he struggles the harder Hargrove pulls at it, sinks his teeth in deeper with a growl. 

Finally, Steve’s self-control breaks. He screams in pain and rage and then he digs his nails into the meat under his hands, as deep and as hard as he can. 

Steve isn’t sure if anything has ever been as gratifying as the feeling of Billy’s skin breaking and his blood welling up as he drags his nails over his shoulder and down his back.

It's the best feeling in the world. Steve feels feral and absolutely elated, like he's had a beast trapped inside of him all this time and finally it broke free and shows its claws.

Billy hisses as his skin splits and finally pops his mouth off Steve’s neck with a wet, gross smack. They break apart, maybe half a step and suddenly Steve is left with too much space and no idea what to do with it. Pulse throbbing in the fresh mark.

When Billy touches his shoulder, hand hovering with something akin to reverence, his eyes on Steve are wild, his cheeks flushed and ruddy and his mouth plush. He only breaks eye contact to inspect the tiny bloodstains collected on his fingertips.

“Harrington.” he rasps, awfully and darkly delighted.

“You think you're the only one who can leave marks, Hargrove?” Steve bites out, something is swelling in his chest that is equal parts pride and hunger.

Steve’s tasted blood. He wants his fingers back in the flesh of Billy’s shoulders, wants to carve out those wounds he left until he hits bone. Wishes he could pull the skin from Billy’s flesh in stripes and get under it the way Billy got under his. Wonders if this is what Billy feels like all the time.

It’s exhilarating, makes him harden in his jeans. All the blood from his brain rushing south.

“I knew it.” Billy leers, triumphant “I knew you’re into it. You _like_ it when it hurts. You're all about it. You can’t ever resist pushing back, even if you know you’re going to lose. The pain. The danger. It turns you on. Those bruises, I’ve seen the way they made you _glow_. Tell me, Stevie, does it make you feel alive?”

It does. Steve is _burning_. He hates it. He loves it. He needs it again. But even more than that he needs Billy to stop running that clever mouth and put it back to good use. 

“Shut up!” he pants “Shut the fuck up!”

“Why don’t you make me, Harrington?” Bill retorts, grins like a hyena “I’d love to see you try.”

Steve doesn’t hesitate, he surges forward, catches Billy’s lips with his own and bites into the kiss. He bites until he tastes copper. He bites until Billy moans and tangles a hand into his hair, pulls his head back with a sharp tug. He snaps his teeth at thin air until Billy locks their lips again and licks deep into his mouth. Blood and spit mix, dribble down Steve’s chin as their tongues tangle and slide against each other, wet and hot.

The storm has been building for too long, has grown too big to stop it as it breaks loose, sweeps them up and away. All they can do is ride it out, like a dangerous wave that’s meant to crush and drown them.

They move and shift, bodies twisting into each other, finding a way they fit, jagged at the edges but somehow whole together. Billy’s hands slide into the back of Steve’s jeans, firmly cupping his ass as he grinds their hips together. 

Steve gasps out a moan, breathless and feverish, as he feels a hardness through the towel around Billy’s hips that matches his own. He tugs it off, hands shaky and impatient, and discards it on the floor.

Billy’s naked against him now, all that golden skin laid bare to Steve’s touch. His nails find his back, his hips, his ass. All of it is Steve’s territory now and he leaves his brand there in red, angry marks for everyone to know. The beast inside him howls with joy. 

Billy shudders against him, dick leaking on the bare skin of Steve’s belly, beads of precum running along his shaft and smearing into his navel as they rut together.

“Get your dick out Harrington.” Billy rasps, mouth against his ear now.

He sounds wrecked, he sounds desperate.

“You do it. Take it out. Touch me.” Steve pants, digs his claws deeper into the firm swell of Billy’s ass. He’s so _thick,_ a layer of pleasant softness over all that muscle, it’s so satisfying to touch him, to knead and scratch and bruise. Steve can't leave his hands off of him. Not even for a second.

Billy grunts, his mouth leaving a sloppy wet trail on Steve’s cheek as he pulls back. He isn’t polite about it, just tears at Steve’s fly until he gets it open, pushes his pants down just enough to free Steve’s cock.

“Fuck, look at you. So damn hard for me.” he says, proud, and gives Steve a good hard jerk that almost makes his knees buckle.

They’re both breathing hard like they’ve run a marathon, Steve feels the throbbing of his dick in his entire body. He’s chances a look down between them as Billy spits into his palm, loud and sloppy. 

Steve is longer, bigger maybe, but Billy’s got more girth. He’s got a fat fucking cock, veiny and thick like the rest of his body. Steve watches in fascination as Billy slides their dicks together and wraps them in his wet, large palm. It looks obscene, the way their heads peek out from his hand, gone red and swollen. It looks so good, it _feels_ so good when Billy starts jerking them together in long, measured strokes. Steve can feel himself going crazy with it, doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his entire _life_. 

He has to stop looking or else he’ll come on the spot, buries his head in the crook of Billy’s neck instead, laps up the sweat that collects there as he ruts up into that calloused palm.

Billy finds a rhythm fast and Steve can feel the pleasure building, hot and tight in his gut, as they slide against each other, slick with spit and sweat and precum.

“Say you love this.” Billy gives them both a hard squeeze that makes Steve keen and see stars for a second “Say you need this.”

“I love it. I need it to hurt.” he slurs half out of his mind and close, so, so close “Fuck. Make me come, Hargrove, come on.”

Billy makes a sound somewhere deep in the back of his throat, raw and animalistic. And then his teeth are back on Steve’s pulse, pushing into the sore skin there and Steve over the edge.

His climax hits him fast and hard, a shock to his system. He wails in pleasure as he shoots and shoots in long white ropes all over Billy’s hand and his own stomach. The world around him is spinning, gone topsy turvy, drunk-like. 

Billy’s teeth release him and his mouth is on his ear again, mutters something that sounds a lot like “Mine.” and then he follows, dick pulsing next to Steve as he orgasms, adds to the sticky mess between them.

Steve feels unraveled as he drifts bonelessly in the afterglow, held up only by Billy’s weight against him, arms looped loosely around his waist. His head is pleasantly empty, filled with nothing but white noise, gentle and soothing like warm summer rain.

Billy stirs first, moves his face from where it was buried in Steve's hair to kiss him again, sweetly, unhurried. No pain, no anger this time. Steve finds he likes it that way too.

He noses the side of Billy’s face after they part again for air, satisfied and too lazy to think about what happened just now. There’s time for that later. Maybe even much later, when the marks they’ve left on each other have faded once more.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m one day late with posting this but I hope you enjoyed my little contribution for this HWOL prompt. Y’all know I like my boys a little rowdy.  
> Thanks for reading! If you liked it, please leave a comment or a kudos. It would soothe my tormented writers soul so very much!
> 
> You can also find me for more writing, occasional art and all things Harringrove and 80s on my [ tumblr](https://aeon-of-neon.tumblr.com)


End file.
